


Cuffed

by doilycoffin



Series: Wincest Love Week 2018 [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Attempted Seduction, Birthday Presents, Handcuffs, M/M, Sam Winchester in Panties, Weecest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-28 18:42:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15055358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doilycoffin/pseuds/doilycoffin
Summary: For Dean's 21st birthday, Sam decides that he'll give his brother a night he'll never forget and when he ensures this by devising a kinky, foolproof plan of birthday fun, he's positive that nothing can go wrong.How was he to know that it would do just that?





	Cuffed

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: other

For Dean's 21st birthday, Sam attempted to do something spontaneous. Something sexy and adventurous to prove to Dean once and for all that Sam wasn't (just) a nerd with a boner for for things like advanced calculus and being quiet in libraries. 

 

"Attempted" being the key word. 

 

Things had started out smoothly enough, at least. Sure, Sam was a little put-out when Dean came back to their motel room after work in the afternoon to let him know that that a few guys down at the shop wanted to take him bar hopping that night to celebrate his birthday (Dean had learned to handle his booze better than most grown men long before he turned 21 but it was the principle of the thing), but Dean promised he would be back sometime before midnight so he still had some birthday left to do a more private kind of celebration with Sam. Besides, Dean didn't tend to make a lot of friends since they moved around so much, and even though the outing just seemed like an excuse to get drunk and act foolish, Sam didn't want to be brat and demand that Dean spend time with him and no one else, regardless of the fact that he knew Dean would immediately drop everything if he begged just right. 

 

Plus, it gave him enough time to put together his surprise for Dean. He didn't exactly have much of a budget to work with, but fortunately the gift he had planned wasn't what one would call elaborate and the few supplies that he needed were already lying around the motel room. Even the panties hadn't needed to be shoplifted since he found a pair of them balled up in the bottom of Dean's duffel bag, the ones that he knew Dean secretly wore every once in a while as if he didn't think that Sam would catch a glimpse of a sliver of frilly, red lace peeking just above his waistband whenever he bent over. Subtle, he ain't 

 

The panties were just half of the fun though; the thing that Sam was most excited about were the handcuffs. He had been wanting to bring the idea up ever since he found out about Dean's penchant for terrible skin flicks that involved them being used. Of course, it was often in the context of a stacked, nymphomaniac brunette getting arrested and immediately offering to work off her debt to society the old fashioned way; Sam could only claim to be one of those three modifiers, but Dean hadn't been complaining so far, so he figured he was still in pretty good shape. 

 

And thus, with no small amount of smugness, Sam wriggled his way into Dean's pair of Secret Panties and handcuffed his wrist to the headboard around 11:15 so he would be in the perfect position when Dean came back that evening, and he was completely confident that everything would go off without a hitch. 

 

That was two and a half hours ago.  

 

Alas, confident, sexy Sam was gone; he'd died a miserable death somewhere between the point when the piece of shit air conditioner had given up the ghost and sputtered its last breath and the point when he accidentally knocked the handcuffs key off of the nightstand when he tried to unlock himself so he go give the AC a nice, hard kick of life. Why the hell was it 80 degrees in January anyway? Goddamn Florida. 

 

Now, there was only sweaty, cranky Sam, whose ass was beginning to itch from the way the lace was rubbing against his skin. The knowledge that the cheap motel bedsheets wouldn't be much better was the only thing keeping him from shimmying his way out of them in defeat. The handcuffs were also beginning to chafe irritatingly against his wrist and without anything to pick the lock with, he was at too awkward of an angle to try forcing his way out unless he wanted to mangle himself in the process. Dean would probably be more favorable towards the idea of Sam staying handcuffed to the bed like an idiot instead of injuring himself senselessly while trying to escape. Sam couldn't say he was looking forward to the merciless teasing that would follow though. 

 

There was only so much that one could do while they were handcuffed to a bed, and eventually Sam resorted to glaring at the motel door as if he could somehow will Dean into walking through it. He must have managed to doze off at some point despite the way his arm was beginning to ache, because the next thing he was aware of was the the sound of the door creaking open followed by an immediate, panicked exclamation from Dean. 

 

In hindsight, Sam realized that it probably wasn't unreasonable for Dean to walk into the motel room and be alarmed by the fact that his clearly disheveled brother was naked, unconscious, and handcuffed to the bed. Whoops. 

 

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he reassured, slowly being roused from his half-asleep state by the sight of Dean drawing his gun from his waistband and scanning the room for any sign of danger. "Calm down." 

 

"What the hell do you mean 'calm down'?" Dean demanded, not convinced. "Things aren't generally peachy keen when you've been handcuffed to a fucking bedpost." 

 

"...they are when you do it to yourself as part of a birthday surprise and then lose the key," Sam explained sheepishly. 

 

Dean blinked at him and slowly lowered his gun. 

 

"Surprise?," Sam offered, weakly. 

 

As predicted, Dean laughed at his predicament with wild abandon when Sam fully explained the situation. 

 

Needless to say, it did very little to improve Sam's already sour mood and when Dean finally sat down on the bed to collect himself for a moment, Sam took the opportunity to give him a swift kick. 

 

"Ow,  Jesus," Dean whined, rubbing his side ruefully. "Come on Sammy, it's my birthday. You've not allowed to be mean to me." 

 

"Me??," Sam yelped incredulously, "You're the one here who's being a total dick." 

 

"It's not  _my_  fault that you handcuffed yourself!"

 

"I wouldn't have been like this for so long if you came home when you said you would!"

 

Dean looked at the alarm clock and winced. 

 

"Shit, I didn't realize how late it had gotten," he apologized. "You've really been stuck like this for a while, huh?" 

 

"Yeah," Sam said, feeling slightly mollified and a bit guilty from how downtrodden Dean looked. "It wasn't  _that_  bad though, I guess. I at least finished the essay for my French History class." 

 

Dean noticed the large textbook and sheets of paper on the nightstand for the first time and snorted. 

 

"Only you would be enough of a nerd to write an essay while handcuffed to a bed and waiting for someone to come home and fuck you. I guess it wouldn't be too hard though in this case though. What did you do, write 'They lost a bunch of wars, the end'?" 

 

"It was one of the only things I could reach," Sam protested, blushing. "And that's not even historically accurate." 

 

"Uh-huh..." 

 

Sam sighed and accepted that the evening had been a complete bust. Maybe he could just say that the gift of laughter was Dean's birthday present and call it a night.

 

"Alright, could you stop making fun of me for a minute and just find the key so I can get out of these things?" 

 

Dean leaned over the side of the bed and brushed his fingers through the grimy, worn carpet until he resurfaced with a small silver key. 

 

And hesitated. 

 

"You know," he said with a grin that would have been downright sleazy on anyone else, "this handcuff thing really is doing it for me right now. It would be a shame if we wasted such a fine opportunity. It's still not too late to have some birthday sex."

 

"It literally is. Your birthday ended over two hours ago," Sam pointed out, not actually opposed to the idea of having sex but also not opposed to the idea of tormenting his brother a little bit first.

 

"Day-after-my-birthday-sex, then. Whatever," Dean shrugged. 

 

Before Sam could keep pretending that he wasn't eager for Dean to pound him into the mattress, Dean leaned in to kiss him and Sam couldn't resist leaning into it. But then, it was generally difficult for Sam to keep up the pretense of being sanctimonious whenever Dean decided to put his mouth to use in ways that didn't involve him mocking Sam. 

 

Dean stroked his thigh under the sheet that Sam tugged across himself in his sleep and paused when his hands felt lace instead of bare skin or the boxer-briefs that Sam typically wore. When he tugged away the sheet and saw what was beneath it, Sam could practically see his mind churning with hitherto unseen levels of lust and he grinned in anticipation. 

 

Maybe he wasn't half-bad at birthday surprises after all. 


End file.
